The Don's Maid [18+]

22

Positivity Corner:

If you can't say No. Say Fuck You. It's better then No.

The next few days, I was being treated like a princess. Though the treatment was highly personal and was meant to pamper me and quite possible make me forget certain incidents but I like the first few times when the breakfast would be brought into the room by a maid, the bed would be made and Vincent would remind me his presence before he left for his work.

Sometimes it would be a kiss on my mouth while I slept. Sometimes it would be a bit more harsher reminder. Eating my kitty to wake me up, for example.

The only good part of waking up to Vincent licking and groping my sex with his mouth was I got to wake up to an amazing orgasm that lasted through out the early parts of the day followed and it'd be dishonest of me if I said I didn't love that part.

I absolutely loved the waves of pleasure that woke me up from my slumber.

But as much as I liked it, it became boring after a while. It became boring just to sit in the sun room and gossip with Sarah and Ariana. Ariana along with Antonio and the kids left for London two days ago and that's when it got more boring. There won't be any life in the house with no screaming and pranks of Aless. There would be no laughs.

Diego had planned to take Sarah somewhere for a little vacation before Christmas and so they left the country early noon yesterday leaving me drown myself in utter boredoom.

It was past lunch time and I was sitting on one of the garden bench under a huge Lychee tree. It was the only tree with leaves in the garden and it provided some warmth.

I pulled my Cardigan tighter around myself as I rubbed my arms. I was bored, alright...and I had nothing to do.

All that kept buzzing around my head was the conversation I had with papa a couple of weeks ago. At some point, I had almost forgotten about it, until two days back when I was in Papa's room, tiding up thing after his departure to Italy.

His room lacked the touch of a female and was as bland as a man's bedroom can be apart from the picture of his wife on his bedside table.

The files and papers that he worked on were haphazardly placed on his table, tea cups and plates littered on top of them.

Let's just say, I had a lot of work to do that morning and seriously, it was almost unwinding. I felt like my muscles were almost rusted.

After I took out the dirty dishes and made his bed, vacuumed the carpet and dusted the window, I was almost tired.

Lastly, I started to work on the papers that was scattered over the table. Honestly I didn't have any intention to touch the papers, they might be important for I could tell, but I was tired and turned on the ceiling fan cause the room doesn't have an air-conditioner.

The papers went flying all over the room and so cursing and whatever, I had to pick the papers up and arrange them. After turning off the fan, of course.

Well...my silent brainstorming started after I had arranged the papers into a neat pile. After the cleaning up the mess I had created, I tried all the desk drawers to put the loose papers in. All but the bottom drawer was locked.

So out of necessity I pulled the drawer open and stuffed the papers in. My natural reflex would be to close the drawer but the envelope addressed in bright green ink caught my eyes, I skimmed through the writing and the name it was addressed to.

The envelope said, Luciano De'Marco followed by the address of this house but what caught my eyes was the letter had come over air-mail from Italy...from Mariano DiAngelo.

Mariano...Mariano...Mariano DiAngelo.

The letter was dated recently.

I frowned taking the letter in my hand and several more appeared underneath.

But papa said...

He said he hadn't heard of Mariano since he left for Italy.

But he gets letter from him...every now and then, what it looks like.

Why would he lie to me, about my father? Why would he not want me to meet him?

It's not like I was going after him anyway...but why would he hide the fact that, he and father still were still in touch.

He never stopped contacting my father. He always knew where he was...and he lied to me.

Why would he do that?

The sound of the door opening makes me jump. I quickly shove the letters in the drawer and close it with a thud before Vincent appears.

"What are you doing here?" He asked a slight hint of annoyance mixed with anger grips the edge of his voice.

"Uh...just -er- tidying things up." I stammer getting up and pulling my now loose hair into a handknot.

"Okay." He frowns.

Maybe he's deciding if it's the truth.

"Are you done, yet?" He asks still frowning.

"Yeah." I say quicker then I should as I pick up the broom lying next to me and give the carpet one last brushing before putting the dust in a pan.

"I still have to wipe the floor." I mumble to myself.

"You haven't had food yet." He says, still not buying my answers.

"Yeah. I was hungry." I mumble getting up from the floor and looking at him.

All in his grey-white glory Vincent stands on the door way with a frown on his face.

"Are you sure you're done?" He asks once again as I face him, a fake smile plastered in my face.

I have a guess that if this man here knows, that I have been snooping around in his papa's room, God'll only know the result of what'll happen to me.

I smile at him brightly and ask "How was the meeting."

"It was alright."

"Did you make the deal?" I turn and gather the things that I brought here.

"Yeah, we did." He sighs. "Now, come I want to feed you."

And that's what had been going around in my head.

Mariano DiAngelo.

My father. And why had he left America and why was he in Italy.

Why never in my twenty years of life he had come to see me, at least once?

And why would papa lie to me?

And so now in this chilly weather I couldn't but feel the warmth rushing all over me, with an absurd plan.

[A|N]

Major credit for this chapter goes to 3ammayhem

That's all I got to say.

Question of the Chapter.

Water park OR Carnival.

Carnival. Cause I fucking can't swim.

-November